


Compromising Position

by ladydragon76



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fanfiction, M/M, Rating: PG-13, character: optimus prime, character: prowl, genre: fluff, genre: humor, verse: g1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2441822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Even the stoic play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compromising Position

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SineadRivka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineadRivka/gifts).



> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Characters:** Optimus/Prowl, Mirage  
>  **Warnings:** None  
>  **Notes:** So I hit 200 followers on Tumblr (mind=blown), and in thanks I decided to hold a little giveaway. [SineadRivka](http://sineadrivka.tumblr.com/) won third prize, so here’s her ficlet! Thank you to all that follow and played, and I really think I’m going to have to do this again. Heheh!

Optimus purred, mind floating up slowly through the soft haze of recharge. He was warm and comfortable, and someone was petting his left windshield with soft, soothing, absent-minded circles. The only problem was that he couldn’t recall the last time he’d dropped into recharge with another mech, and he didn’t remember it this time either.

Dim, sleepy optics were pried open, and Optimus smiled and nuzzled the red chevron with his battlemask as he recognized Prowl. “Good… er…” He checked his chrono. “Evening.” Primus, how was it already almost midnight?

“Mmhn.” Prowl burrowed in closer, hand flattening on Optimus’ chest.

They were in the common room of all places. How had that even happened? Optimus certainly didn’t remember stretching out on the sofa or Prowl cuddling in against him.

No wait, he did recall watching some movie as mechs began to filter out for recharge or their evening shifts. He had energon, and had dragged Prowl down onto the sofa with him for a well-deserved break when he caught Ratchet eyeing them both with a gleam that was, frankly, scary as all slag. Optimus didn’t want to experience the sort of lecture known to follow such close observation from his CMO. Again.

Optimus purred louder, an odd, playful mood coming over him as he woke more. The battlemask was retracted and he lipped down the side of Prowl’s helm.

“Sir. What are you doing?”

“I’m hungry.”

“There is an energon dispenser right there.” One arm lifted heavily, pointing in a vague way toward the dispenser, then dropped, falling to hang behind Prowl’s back and off the sofa.

Nibbling lightly, purr shifting to a low growl, Optimus moved his hand into a better position. He dipped a finger into an armor gap and ever so lightly stroked it over a cable.

Prowl tensed, his armor slicking down and catching Optimus’ finger between two plates. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’ve heard that tone used on Sideswipe,” Optimus chuckled, and then wiggled the trapped finger.

“Your situational awareness leaves much room for improvement, Sir,” Prowl said.

Optimus jerked as fingers suddenly danced over the lines and cables in his side. “Of course, you realize, this means war.”

A smirk curled across Prowl’s mouth. “Bring it.”

The stare down lasted only a few seconds, both of them tense, respiration held, optics bright as they laid facing one another. Optimus broke first, fingers wiggling and other hand reaching down over Prowl’s shoulder to scrabble over what he knew to be sensitive doorwing hinges. Prowl’s fingers clenched tight as he was tickled, and sensation skittered over Optimus’ sensornet, a very unleaderlike snicker escaping him. Then another. And was that a _giggle_ from Prowl?

Oh, what did it matter? Neither of them ever really got a chance to play, and no one was there to see it.

A jerk and a twist, and suddenly they were falling.

Prowl’s optics shot wide, but Optimus flattened one hand against the floor, his other arm holding the Praxian to his chest so the hinges of his doorwings wouldn’t be wrenched from a hard landing on his back. With a relieved sigh, Prowl slowly relaxed, but his hands remained on Optimus’ shoulders where they clung even as he was eased to the floor.

Optimus grinned, then snickered again as he hung over Prowl. “You should have seen your face.”

“Your optics nearly popped out of your helm,” Prowl said, smiling and bringing both of his knees in to smack Optimus’ hips.

There was a scuff of sound, and they both looked up and into the stunned, bright pink face of Mirage.

“I- Oh my- I- Well, I-” Mirage stuttered. “Pardon me.” Then he was gone, the air stirring in his wake.

Optimus looked back down at Prowl, their position suddenly registering, and he felt his own face heat a bit. There he was, the Prime, lying on the floor between his Second in Command’s legs, Prowl’s hands on his shoulders, one of his arms wrapped under the mech.

“I believe we’ve scandalized him,” Prowl said.

“Oops?” Optimus offered, and grinned.

Prowl shook with a silent chuckle, and Optimus laughed before pushing himself up and holding a hand down to his Second in Command. “Come on, before we glitch someone.”

**Author's Note:**

> **([Table of Contents](http://ladydragon76.livejournal.com/6214.html) )**


End file.
